#Clone!izuku | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebunnednun · 22 days ago

Text

Toast 4.

But do I look,

Like Him?

Pro Hero! Katsuki Bakugou x Prohero!Ex! Reader

Years after you walked out of his life, Katsuki can't stand how his mind won't let you go after all this time. And after your most recent phone call,

He doesn't think he ever will. Especially after meeting your secret daughter.

Who has his exact eyes.

Warning: Heavy angst, post break ups, crying Katsuki, meeting ex's (you).

Part one right here. Part 2 over yander Part 3 is here

Inspired by the song: Darling, I

Songs:

Full list on the ao3 chapter

Like Him <------ Tyler the Creator (Asuna over hearing everything.)

“My daughter.”

Katsuki felt his soul try to leave out his ass.

You were still turned toward Asuna, smoothing down her hair and examining the dip-dyed tips of her braids as you fussed over her, completely oblivious to the chaos unfolding just behind you.

“You’ve got bring your coat with you to school,” you said, your tone equal parts affectionate and chiding.

“And what did I tell you about after school junk food?”

Asuna grinned up at you, her sharp red eyes sparkling with mischief.

“ Not to,” she said sweetly, though the giggle threatening to burst free ruined any attempt at sounding remorseful. You glanced down at the girl as her giggles finally started to subside, and her mischievous grin turned into something softer as she looked up at you.

You ruffled her braids gently, your fingers lingering on the dip-dyed tips. The two of you looked almost like twins under the glow of the streetlights—same face, same posture, even the same teasing glint in your expressions.

But then there were the eyes.

Yours held warmth and wisdom, tempered by years of struggles and triumphs. Hers burned like twin embers, sharp and unrelenting, filled with the boundless energy of youth.

Katsuki couldn’t stop staring.

The resemblance between you two was uncanny. It wasn’t just the shared features; it was the way you both carried yourselves, that same blend of confidence and playfulness. The way her grin mirrored yours, the slight tilt of her head, even the way she gestured with her hands—it was like watching a younger version of you.

But it was her eyes that pinned him in place.

Those sharp red irises locked onto him, and for a split second, the lightness in her expression dimmed. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line as she studied him. Katsuki felt the air shift around him as recognition dawned in her gaze.

She knew who he was.

Her glare was quick, a fleeting moment of defiance that made his chest tighten.

It wasn’t hostility—not exactly. It was more like a warning, a challenge wrapped up in a teenage girl’s unimpressed stare. Katsuki, for all his brashness and bravado, found himself breaking eye contact first, scowling as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“ Brat ,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Asuna didn’t let up. She leaned slightly toward him, the bouquet of flowers cradled in her arm like a shield, before quirking an eyebrow in a way that screamed the fuck you gonna do about it? Then, as if deciding he wasn’t worth her time, she turned her attention back to you, her expression softening once more.

You, oblivious to the silent exchange, gave the flowers in your hands another glance before passing them back to her. “Not bad,” you said with a teasing smirk.

“You’re learning.”

The girl pouted dramatically. “I’ve always been good at picking flowers.”

“Sure you have,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Just don’t think this gets you out of trouble.”

Her pout melted into a grin as she hugged the bouquet to her chest. “You’re not really mad, though,” she said confidently.

You sighed, shaking your head. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Behind you, Kirishima, who had been openly gawking, leaned over to Izuku and whispered loudly, “It’s like they cloned her, but gave her Katsuki’s eyes!”

Izuku blinked rapidly, still processing, before mumbling, “She really does look like them both, huh?”

Katsuki shot them a glare, his teeth grinding as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, and Katsuki felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. He stared at you, then at her, then back again, his mind scrambling to piece everything together.

Asuna, however, seemed completely unbothered by the tension. She beamed up at you, then spun toward the others, her energy as infectious as ever.

“It’s nice to meet you all!” she chirped, giving a little wave with her free hand.

Kirishima, still looking like he’d been hit over the head, managed a weak smile and an awkward, “Uh… hey there.” He squatted down and was still a little taller than the girl.

Izuku’s lips parted as if to say something, but he just nodded dumbly, his cheeks tinged pink with surprise.

Todoroki’s gaze lingered on Hikari, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough to reveal the faintest flicker of confusion. “She really does look like you,” he murmured.

“Yeah, well,” you said lightly, brushing a strand of hair from Asuna’s face.

“ She’s got good genes.”

Katsuki’s stomach churned. His hands twitched at his sides as he stared at the girl again, his mind flashing back to earlier that day. He hadn’t known then who she was, but now—now it made sense. Every sharp word, every defiant glare, every moment she’d stood her ground against him.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

She really was your daughter.

And as the girl’s mischievous grin returned, Katsuki realized with a jolt of clarity–

He wasn’t ready for this.

Kirishima lay frozen for a moment, his hands hovering uncertainly as he watched his best friend struggle to breathe. His eyes darted from Katsuki to you and Asuna, then back again, panic setting in. Finally, as Asuna let out another giggle, Kirishima made a snap decision.

“So, uh,” he said loudly, his voice almost too cheerful as he stepped forward, blocking your line of sight to the commotion. “Asuna, right? Cool name! So, uh, when’s your birthday?”

Asuna blinked, momentarily distracted by the question. “April 21st,” she said, tilting her head curiously.

You could’ve heard a snowflake drop.

“Nice, nice,” Kirishima said, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “What’s your favorite color?”

You glanced up briefly, arching a brow at Kirishima’s sudden interest in your daughter. “Bloody purple,” Asuna answered without missing a beat, her grin widening.

“Uh, cool, cool,” Kirishima said, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he glanced nervously over his shoulder at Katsuki, who was still clutching his chest like his heart might explode. “And, uh, favorite food?”

“Mapo tofu,” Asuna said proudly. “Extra chili peppers. Gotta have the heat.”

Katsuki fell to his knees.

His entire body trembling as if the world itself had flipped on its axis. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, and one hand was clutching his chest so tightly his knuckles were white.

Izuku, with his ever-watchful eyes, was the first to react, darting forward with a panicked, “ Katsuki! ” He crouched beside him, gripping his arm to steady him.

Todoroki was right behind him, his calm mask slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of concern. Without a word, he grabbed Katsuki’s other arm, hoisting him back to his feet as though the blonde weighed nothing.

“What’s wrong with him?” Todoroki whispered, his voice quiet but insistent.

You almost turned around to hear the commotion but Kirishima forced a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “You like spicy, huh? You and Katsuki have that in common—he’s all about the spice.” That had your attention back on your twin.

Asuna's eyes flicked briefly toward Katsuki, who was now leaning heavily on both Izuku and Todoroki. A small smirk tugged at her lips as she added,

“Oh yeah. Mom, I’ll be taking my hero license exam before Christmas break.”

“Really?” Kirishima said, trying desperately to keep the conversation going. “That’s awesome! Who’s helping you prepare?”

“Gramps,” Asuna replied casually, shrugging one shoulder.

“Gramps?” Kirishima echoed, blinking in confusion.

“Aizawa-sensei,” Asuna clarified, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s more like a hobo uncle, but I call him Gramps ‘cause he’s old and has the attitude to match.”

At that, Izuku’s head shot up, his eyes wide with realization.

“ Wait ,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “I’ve seen her before.” His face turned an alarming shade of red as the pieces clicked into place, and he stammered,

“She’s—she’s your—”

Todoroki, who had been silently observing, gave a slight nod, his expression as composed as ever but his eyes betraying a hint of smugness.

“I knew it,” he murmured.

Katsuki, however, couldn’t get a single word out.

His breathing was shallow, his chest heaving as he struggled to process the scene in front of him. His gaze flicked from you to Asuna and back again, his mind replaying every interaction he’d had with the girl earlier that day.

Her sharp tongue, her confidence, her fiery glare—it all made sense now.

“She’...,” he choked out, barely above a whisper.

Asuna, who had been watching him out of the corner of her eye, turned fully toward him.

For a brief moment, her playful demeanor faltered, and she regarded him with a look that was equal parts curiosity and challenge. Her wine red eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth twitching as though she were debating whether to say something.

Then, with a tilt of her head and a knowing smirk, it was like her eyes said,

‘You’re slower than I thought.’

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, and for a second, it looked like he might argue. But before he could say anything, you finally turned around, noticing the way he was sagging between Izuku and Todoroki.

“Katsuki?” you asked, frowning as you stepped toward him.

“Don’t,”

He managed, holding up a hand to stop you. His voice was rough, strained, and he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Just—give me a minute.”

You hesitated, your concern evident, but Asuna tugged lightly on your sleeve, drawing your attention back to her. “He’ll be fine,” she said casually, though there was a glimmer of amusement in her gaze.

You sighed, ruffling her hair again before glancing back at Katsuki.

“If you say so.”

As you turned your focus back to Asuna, Katsuki’s eyes lingered on the two of you.

In the bright streetlights, the resemblance was undeniable. The way you fussed over her, the way she leaned into your touch—it was like looking at a version of you he’d never imagined but couldn’t look away from.

And for the second time in his life, Katsuki Bakugo didn’t know what the fuck to do.

The night air felt sharp against your skin, but it didn’t bother you as you glanced at the bag of snacks Asuna opened. She tilted it toward you with a casual shrug, revealing your favorite comfort snacks nestled among hers. You raised an eyebrow, amused.

“You even got mine?” you teased gently, cupping her face in your hands to study her more closely.

Asuna shrugged again, feigning indifference.

“Yeah, well, you’re annoying when you’re hangry.”

Her deadpan delivery earned a soft laugh from you, though your hands lingered on her cheeks. Her warmth was a welcome contrast to the chill in the air, but it only made you notice the absence of a coat on her even more.

“Kirishima,” you said, turning slightly to glance at the redhead still hovering near Katsuki.

“Can you give us a second?”

Kirishima perked up immediately. “Yeah, no problem!” he said, stepping back with exaggerated cheerfulness before noticing Katsuki still sitting on the pavement. He muttered something under his breath and quickly leaned down to help his friend up.

But Katsuki wasn’t cooperating.

The moment Kirishima hauled him halfway to his feet, Katsuki’s knees buckled again, and he collapsed onto Todoroki, who let out an audible grunt and staggered under the unexpected weight.

Todoroki’s expression didn’t change much, but the slightly widened eyes and twitch at the corner of his lips screamed discomfort. He looked like a disgruntled dog toy that had been stepped on.

“Bakugo, get ahold of yourself,” Todoroki said flatly, trying to nudge him off without much success.

Izuku hovered nearby, looking like he wanted to intervene but wasn’t sure how. Meanwhile, Kirishima alternated between fretting over Katsuki and apologizing profusely to Todoroki.

You ignored their antics entirely, turning your attention back to Asuna. “Where’s your coat?” you asked, your voice dipping into that firm-but-gentle tone you always used when nagging her.

Asuna rolled her eyes but grinned. “I run hot, you know that.”

“Not good enough,” you muttered, already shrugging out of your own black coat. She groaned in protest as you draped it over her shoulders, immediately beginning to fuss with the sleeves.

“ Moooom , seriously, I’ll overheat—”

“Too bad,” you interrupted, brushing off her complaints as you buttoned it up snugly. The veil you’d been wearing came off next, and you wrapped it around her neck as a makeshift scarf, your braids slipping free to frame your face in intricate, thick ropes.

“Thermals?” you asked, squinting at her. She sighed, defeated.

“Yeah, I’ve got them on.”

“Good,” you said, finishing the last button and tucking the veil securely under her chin.

It was then you noticed something new in her hair��a small, blue butterfly clip tucked into the braid nearest her face. You tilted your head, running a gentle finger over it. “What’s this? I don’t remember seeing this before.”

Asuna’s grin widened. “Eri gave me a matching set. She said butterflies are good luck.”

Your smile softened as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“It suits you.”

Satisfied that she was as bundled as she’d allow, you tilted your head, your voice dipping lower. “How was school today?” Asuna hesitated, the bravado dimming slightly as she fiddled with the itchy edge of the veil.

“It was okay . I stayed in the office with Nezu and Hound Dog most of the day.”

Your frown was immediate, though she quickly continued. “Aizawa let Midnight test me in the teacher’s lounge so I wouldn’t have to deal with people staring. She even paused the timer whenever I cried.”

You stilled, your chest aching at the thought. Without hesitation, you cupped her face again and leaned forward, pressing your forehead to hers.

“I’m proud of you,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

Then you kissed her forehead, holding her close as your quirk instinctively warmed her.

Behind you, Izuku was visibly tearing up, his hand twitching toward his pocket. Katsuki, despite his earlier stupor, noticed and smacked Izuku’s hand down before he could pull out his phone to call his mom.

Katsuki barely registered the pain in his chest as he clutched at it, staring at you and Asuna. The sight of her—your daughter—was like a punch to the gut. She looked so much like you, but her sharp red eyes glared at him with an intensity that mirrored his own.

For a fleeting moment, recognition sparked between them.

He’d seen her before, hadn’t he? In a fleeting memory, a face in the crowd…

And now, here she was, standing beside you like a living reminder of everything he’d lost.

“ Mom ,” Asuna whispered, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

You held her tighter, your warmth enveloping her entirely.

This wasn’t about Katsuki, or even about you.

It was about a girl who’d just lost her grandmother and was desperately trying to keep it together for her mom.

Katsuki’s throat tightened, and he looked away. There was no way he’d bring up the past now—not when it was so painfully clear how much healing still needed to happen.

The rustling of plastic bags broke the quiet hum of the evening as you reached into the convenience store bag. Pulling out a pack of tissues, you handed it to Asuna, who immediately sidled closer, using you as a human shield.

Her eyes darted past your shoulder, scanning the guys as if they might jump her with questions. You couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips as you fished out an unopened water bottle next, passing it to her.

“Drink,” you urged softly, tucking a stray braid behind your ear.

Asuna unscrewed the cap and tilted her head back, draining the bottle in one go. The hollow crackle of the plastic bottle echoed briefly before she sighed, lowering it and pressing her forehead against your shoulder.

“Can we dip, please ?”

Her deadpan tone paired with her abrupt word choice made you laugh. “Selective vocabulary strikes again,” you teased, but nodded, rubbing her back gently. Turning to the group, you called out,

“Alright, we’re heading out. Good night, everyone!”

Kirishima, who had finally managed to get Katsuki upright, grinned, his arm slung securely around the still-unsteady blond. But the moment Katsuki registered your words, he surged forward, his movements stiff but determined.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said firmly, his voice quieter than usual but still carrying that telltale grit.

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, Kirishima, Todoroki, and Izuku all moved in unison like an impenetrable wall of intent.

“Not happening,” Kirishima said, his voice chipper but resolute. “Too late for that,” Todoroki added coolly. Izuku, ever the diplomat, gave you an apologetic smile. “It’s safer this way.” You huffed in mock frustration, rolling your eyes.

“You guys act like I can’t handle myself,” you said, throwing them a playful glare.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to,” Kirishima countered, his voice kind but firm. He stepped forward and hit the button for the crosswalk with his knuckle, grinning back at you like he’d done you a great favor.

Asuna sidled in front of you, linking her arm with yours as the walk signal lit up.

The small group fell into step behind you, their quiet chatter blending with the distant sound of traffic as you made your way to the ramen shop across the street. When you arrived, the warm light spilling from the restaurant’s windows revealed a familiar figure standing outside.

Aizawa was leaning against the doorframe, his ever-present scarf hanging loosely around his neck. Before you could say anything, Asuna lit up and bolted past you.

“Eri!”

The teen barely had time to react before Asuna scooped her up, spinning her around in a hug. Eri laughed, her arms wrapping tightly around Asuna’s neck, her pink butterfly clip catching the light.

Inside, the members of Class 1-A were seated at a long table, their chopsticks halfway to their mouths as they stared in stunned silence. You followed Asuna into the shop, offering a sheepish smile.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce y'all,” you said casually, gesturing to Asuna.

“This is my daughter.”

The room fucking exploded.

Chopsticks clattered onto plates. Spoons hit the floor. Forks slid from bowls of ramen. Questions flew at you from every direction.

“Wait, what?!”

“You have a daughter!”

“She’s so cool!”

“She’s so pretty !!”

“SINCE WHEN DO YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER?!”

“Does she have a quirk?”

You let Asuna field most of the questions, stepping back and observing her with a quiet sense of pride as she answered effortlessly, dodging the ones she didn’t want to answer with a quick wit you knew she’d inherited from her….

Anyway.

When the questions began veering toward you, you expertly deflected them with a smile. “Thanks for the fun time, everyone. I’ll see you later. Have a good night!”

Aizawa stood with Eri as you turned to leave, but not before Kirishima elbowed Katsuki so hard you heard the thud of contact.

Katsuki let out a series of sharp, hot pops in response, glaring daggers at the redhead.

“Dude, say something to her,” Kirishima hissed, leaning closer.

Katsuki shot him a look that could melt steel, but before anyone could intervene further, he stepped forward, his gaze fixed firmly on you.

“I needa talk to you,” he said, his voice strained.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Alright,” you said, turning to Asuna. “I’ll be right back. Eri, keep an eye on her for me?” Eri nodded eagerly, her smile wide.

“Got it!”

Asuna rolled her eyes playfully, catching the purse Aizawa handed you with an effortless snatch. “Egg rolls for home?” she asked, already fishing through the bag for cash.

You chuckled. “Go for it.”

Her cheer echoed behind you as you stepped outside with Katsuki. He held the door open for you, his movements a little stiff, and you bit your tongue, holding back a quip as you followed him toward Kirishima’s truck.

The cool air wrapped around you again, but the tension in the space between you and Katsuki burned hotter than any flame. He stopped a few steps away, turning to face you fully. His crimson eyes bore into yours, raw and intense, like he was trying to read every secret written on your face.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to fiddle with your braids as you stood there, waiting for him to speak.

The air between you both felt electric, tense with everything unsaid.

Katsuki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands flexing open and closed as if trying to grasp for words that refused to come.

His chest felt tight, his heart hammering like it wanted to punch its way out. Danger, danger, danger, his instincts screamed, but he was already too far gone to retreat.

“I...” His voice cracked slightly, and he grit his teeth, frustrated at his own hesitation.

“I want to say first—I’m sorry. Again. For making this about the past when... when you’re goin’ through so much grief.”

You tilted your head, your brows knitting together slightly as you studied him.

“But...?” you prompted, the single word cutting through the cold like a blade.

Katsuki swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. He wanted to ask, needed to ask, but the words stuck, heavy and stubborn on his tongue.

“I... didn't know you had a daughter...” His voice faltered, and he clenched his fists at his sides.

He couldn’t even say it.

You caught the hesitation, your expression shifting. Slowly, you reached up and flicked one of your braids over your shoulder, the gesture calm and deliberate despite the fire sparking in your gaze.

“No one knows,” you began, your voice steady but low. “Except for Aizawa, Eri, some UA staff, and Hitoshi.”

“ Hitoshi? ”

The name hit him like a shockwave, bringing a flood of memories rushing back. “Bag check, Shinso ?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You nodded, and Katsuki’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. Memories of a younger Shinso flashed through his mind—a quiet, sharp-eyed kid who always seemed to linger around you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Katsuki closed his eyes and swallowed hard while a shuttered breath passed through him.

“Oh. Is he—”

“No.”

Your answer was immediate, cutting him off sharply.

His mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way you said it, the edge to your tone, the fire now blooming in your irises. It hit him all at once, the realization of just how much you’d been holding back.

You stood there, staring at him, your patience visibly fraying. Katsuki could see it in the set of your jaw, the tightness in your shoulders, and the way your gaze pinned him in place. Your quirk always revealed itself in moments like these, when your emotions ran too high to be contained, the fiery glow in your eyes a warning as clear as any explosion.

“No,” you repeated, quieter this time, but no less firm. “He’s not her father.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, as if daring him to push further.

Katsuki’s throat worked as he tried to form a response, but he came up empty. He could only stare at you, his crimson eyes searching yours for something—answers, forgiveness, clarity—but finding nothing he could grasp.

You took a shaky breath, your chest rising and falling as emotions swirled hot and heavy inside you.

The weight of the last few days, the confrontation in the ramen shop, and now this conversation—it was all too much. Your fingers twitched at your sides as you fought the urge to fidget, knowing full well that he was watching every little movement.

Fucking annoyed you as much as the last time it happened.

And yet, as much as you tried, you couldn’t read his expression. His eyes, normally so fierce and direct, were shadowed with something unreadable.

Indifference ? Regret ?

You couldn’t tell.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the cold air biting at your skin as the silence stretched. Katsuki finally took a small step forward, his hands still clenched but his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Then... who?”

The question hung there, fragile and uncertain, and you blinked, the glow in your eyes dimming slightly. But you didn’t answer—not yet. Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze hardening.

“That’s not a question you get to ask,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to crack through. “Not tonight.”

Katsuki flinched at your words, but he didn’t argue. For once, he didn’t try to push past the boundary you’d drawn. Instead, he just nodded, his shoulders sagging slightly as he stepped back, giving you space.

“Alright,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of a distant car horn. “Alright.”

You turned away first, heading back toward the restaurant where Asuna and Eri were waiting. But Katsuki stayed where he was, staring after you as if the cold air might carry the answers he hadn’t been brave enough to ask for.

“WAIT!”

The cold night air pressed in around you, biting at your skin as you turned back to Katsuki. His voice had been sharp, desperate enough to cut through the haze of your exhaustion. You were so tired, worn to the bone by the last few days, and yet here you were again—caught in another conversation that you weren’t sure your heart could handle.

Katsuki stood a few feet away, his shoulders squared but his eyes uncertain. There was something raw in the way he looked at you, something that almost made you falter. But you didn’t. Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze narrowing in a way you knew would keep him at arm’s length.

“Why didn’t you tell the group about her?” he asked, his voice low but carrying the weight of every unspoken question he’d been holding back.

Your jaw tightened, and you let the silence hang between you for a moment, tapping your foot against the cracked pavement in that telltale rhythm of frustration. It was a habit you couldn’t break, one that Katsuki clearly recognized. His crimson eyes flicked down to your tapping foot and back up, watching you like a man waiting for a storm to hit.

Finally, you let out a sharp breath and answered curtly,

“Because of who her father is. It was for her own safety. I didn’t know she was going to pop up like this, so I hope that answers any follow-up questions.”

Your tone was clipped, leaving no room for argument, but Katsuki didn’t back down. He breathed out slowly, the hot cloud of his breath dissipating into the cold air. His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered your words. Then, he took a step forward.

Instinctively, you stepped back.

It was a sick, familiar dance, one y’all hadn’t realized you’d both fallen into so easily.

He moved closer; you retreated. The space between you felt like a battlefield, charged with old wounds and unspoken truths. Katsuki’s frustration was palpable, etched into every tense line of his body, but he didn’t push harder. Not yet.

He just watched you, his crimson eyes flickering with something unreadable. And for the first time in a long while, he saw a reflection of yourself in him—of every time you’d tried to get closer, only for him to shift the goalposts, to move just far enough away that you couldn’t reach him.

It hit him like a frozen bread slice.

That’s what this was.

That’s how you’d felt every single time he’d held back. He could feel it now, the weight of emotions he couldn’t name sitting heavy on his chest. Feelings weren’t just fleeting thoughts—they were messy, tangled things that married the mind and the heart together.

Married.

The thought struck him, sharp and sudden, and his eyes darted to your hands, to your neck, as if searching for proof he already knew wasn’t there.

Still, the idea clawed at him, refused to let go.

Finally, he lifted his head again, his expression open and almost lost.

“ I didn’t know you got married ,” Katsuki murmured, his voice rough and cracking like dry wood.

The neon lights of the ramen shop cast a soft glow over you both, their warm colors a stark contrast to the icy air around you. Him, in the dark glow of the windows and green of the convenience store. You, bathed in the red and purple of the ramen shop.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

Your eyes widened in shock, your breath catching audibly. And then silence fell, heavy and unyielding. The seconds dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity as the weight of his words settled between you.

You didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stared at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. And for a brief, fleeting moment, Katsuki thought he might have been wrong to ask.

But then, finally, you spoke, your voice steady and clear despite the whirlwind of emotions behind it.

“I didn’t.”

Two words. That was all.

But they hit like a detonation, shaking the fragile ground you both stood on.

Katsuki’s mouth opened slightly, as if to say something, but no sound came out. He stared at you, his crimson eyes wide with shock, confusion, and something else—

Something deeper.

You stood firm, your feet planted on the cold pavement as you crossed your arms tighter over your chest. Despite the chill, your cheeks felt hot, the weight of his gaze like a physical touch against your skin.

And yet, you didn’t back down.

You couldn’t.

For the first time since this conversation started, it felt like the roles had shifted. Katsuki was the one left floundering, scrambling to make sense of what you’d said. And you... you were finally the one holding your ground.

But as you stared at him, as the silence stretched on and the distance between you felt both infinite and nonexistent, you couldn’t ignore the pang in your chest.

Because no matter how much you tried to steel yourself, there was still a part of you that remembered—remembered how warm and safe he used to feel, how easy it had been to curl up in his chest and let the rest of the world fade away.

And yet, here you were, the space between you wider than it had ever been.

The cold nips at your skin, sharp and unrelenting, as Katsuki steps closer. You could feel the heat of his presence, the weight of him pressing into the fragile boundaries you’d erected between yourself and the rest of the world.

Step by step, he closed the distance, and step by step, you backed away, your arms crossed tighter against your chest like armor.

You didn’t realize you were nearing the curb until the edge of it bit into the heel of your shoe.

The stumble was slight, but it jolted through you, a stark reminder of how close he’d pushed you to the edge—literally and figuratively. Katsuki noticed, of course, his crimson eyes narrowing with the sharpness of a predator, but he didn’t stop.

"Hey, I just..." His voice cracked slightly, and he exhaled heavily, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "I need to know. Is her father—"

"Stop."

Your voice came out like a whip, sharp and cold. Your arms tightened further across your chest, and you held your ground despite the gnawing urge to retreat further.

"You’re going too fucking far, Katsuki."

His jaw worked as if grinding down his words, his teeth clenched tight. But the frustration in his eyes only grew hotter. “I just want to know if he’s even—”

“Enough!”

You snapped, and your voice rang out louder than you intended. For a moment, you saw the faintest flicker of surprise in his expression, but it didn’t last.

“Does he even know?” Katsuki shot back, his voice rough and biting.

“Does her dad even know she exists?!”

Your entire body stiffened, the heat of anger flashing through you like a wildfire. The words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them, burning like acid on your tongue.

“That asshole doesn’t deserve to know.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Katsuki froze, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. His crimson eyes searched yours, wide with shock and something else—something softer, something heavier.

Katsuki was lost.

Your throat tightened, and you turned your face away, a trembling hand swiping quickly under your eye. The motion was small, almost imperceptible, but it betrayed you nonetheless. The vulnerability of it all—of him seeing you like this, of him pushing you so far—made your chest ache with an unbearable weight.

Katsuki took advantage of the moment, of your gaze pulling away from him, and closed the distance.

You could feel him stepping closer, his warmth drawing nearer, and the air felt too thick, too suffocating.

Your eyes shifted to where Asuna and Eri were sitting at a table near the ramen shop window, their little faces glowing in the neon light as they giggled and shared egg rolls.

Hitoshi placed a steaming bowl of ramen in front of Asuna, ruffling her hair as she swatted his hand before giving him an eager grin. Aizawa lingered by the doorway, looking half-exasperated as Denki animatedly gestured with wild abandon, no doubt recounting some chaotic tale about frozen bread.

The scene was warm, domestic, and far too normal for the tempest swirling inside you.

“ You don’t get to come back and ask me things like this ,” you said, your voice quieter but no less firm as you turned back to him.

Katsuki’s gaze lingered on the scene for a moment longer before snapping back to you. His brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a hard line as if he wanted to argue. But something in your expression stopped him, something in the way your eyes glimmered with a mixture of anger and exhaustion.

You wanted to take another step back.

You wanted to keep retreating, to put as much distance as possible between you and this man who had once been your everything.

But the curb was at your back, and the thought crossed your mind to step into the street, to show him just how far you were willing to go for a sliver of space.

Before you could act on the impulse, Katsuki did something unexpected.

He stepped back.

It wasn’t a stumble, wasn’t hesitant or unsure.

It was deliberate, a single step backward that left a noticeable gap between you. His hands balled into fists at his sides, the tension in his shoulders unrelenting, but he didn’t close the distance again.

You stared at him, your breath coming in uneven puffs of condensation, and for the first time in what felt like ages, there was a fragile kind of silence between you.

The frigid air bit at your skin as you stared at Katsuki. It wasn’t just the cold that made you shiver, though.

The weight of his gaze, the anger barely hidden behind his furrowed brows, and the way he seemed to tower over the moment—it all made you feel exposed in ways you couldn’t afford right now. You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, a flimsy shield against everything unraveling between you.

Katsuki wasn’t moving. His boots were planted firmly on the ground, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as though anchoring himself. You could see the storm brewing in his eyes, the frustration and confusion tearing him apart. You could practically hear the words he wasn’t saying.

"Tomorrow," he said finally, his voice rough and strained. "Park. Noon."

You blinked at him, your lips parting to speak, but the words stuck in your throat.

Katsuki’s jaw worked, his teeth grinding audibly. "For the pictures," he added, his voice sharp but quieter.

You felt the tightness in your chest ease ever so slightly, but only because it gave you something concrete to grasp onto, something simple. "Fine," you replied curtly, nodding. "During lunch."

For a moment, neither of you moved. It felt like you were standing on opposite planks, balancing on a precarious structure. The slightest shift from either of you could send the other tumbling, and neither seemed willing to make that first move.

Katsuki’s voice broke the silence, hoarse and raw. "You’re trying to do everything on your own, aren’t you?"

Your lips tightened, and you looked away, your gaze drawn back to the ramen shop window where Asuna and Eri were laughing. Their hands were messy with soy sauce, and Hitoshi was playfully nudging Asuna’s chopsticks toward the bowl while Aizawa kept one eye on the scene and the other on Denki, still ranting.

"I’m her mother," you said finally, your voice low but firm.

"It’s my job to protect her, to do what’s best for her."

"And what about you ?" Katsuki snapped, taking a single step closer, the plank beneath him groaning under the weight of his frustration.

"What about what’s best for you ?"

Your eyes whipped back to him, narrowing. "I don’t have the luxury of thinking about just myself," you shot back, your voice trembling with the effort to hold steady. "Not when I have her, not when I have everything else to keep in line."

"That’s bullshit," he growled, his fists trembling at his sides. "You’re—"

You cut him off, your voice sharp enough to slice through the tension.

" Don’t . Don’t pretend to understand what it’s like to juggle all of this, Katsuki. You wouldn’t get it."

He flinched, just barely, but you saw it. His expression shifted into something softer, more raw, and the intensity of it made your stomach twist.

"You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re gonna snap under the weight of it all?" he said quietly, his voice dropping into something almost pleading.

"Ya think I don’t know how much it hurts to have to hold everything together when all you wanna do is fall apart?"

Your throat tightened, and you looked away again, your arms uncrossing just enough for your hands to rest at your sides. You clenched your fists, willing your resolve to hold, but his words burrowed under your skin.

"I don’t have that option," you whispered, barely audible over the hum of the city around you.

Katsuki exhaled hard, his breath clouding the air. He didn’t argue this time. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration simmering just below the surface.

"You deserve better," he muttered, almost too low for you to hear.

You glanced back at him, your gaze steady but weary. Then, your lips curved into a sad smile as your eyebrows pursed together in grievance. A bittersweet chuckle escaped your breath,

“Yeah, I should’ve chosen better, huh?”

Katsuki’s heart stopped.

The weight of your words settled heavily, neither of you willing to move or send the other crashing. It was a delicate balance, but at least for now, it held.

"Tomorrow," you repeated, your voice softer this time.

"Noon."

Katsuki nodded, stepping back finally, giving you the distance you craved. His hands shoved deep into his pockets, and his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned away.

As you watched him go, you couldn’t help but feel the tension still thrumming in the air, like the strings of a song left unfinished.

The sudden burst of energy from the ramen shop felt like a pressure valve had been released.

Kirishima, grinning but clearly on a mission, bounded out first with Aizawa close behind, his sharp eyes scanning the street. Behind them, Eri and Asuna trailed, the former clutching a half-eaten egg roll while Asuna looked around with wide, curious eyes. Shinsou followed last, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze keen, observing everything.

You barely had a moment to gather yourself before Asuna caught sight of you. Her face lit up like the neon signs above, and she sprinted toward you, arms outstretched.

You tensed instinctively, catching her as she all but threw herself into your arms. The warmth of her body against yours was grounding, and you clutched her tightly, spinning her once to hear the delighted giggle escape her lips.

Aizawa approached with a measured pace, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“Everything alright? ” he asked, his tone low but concerned.

You nodded, not trusting your voice yet, and pressed a kiss to Asuna’s temple. She squirmed happily, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though the words felt heavier than you intended.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Izuku step out, his gaze flitting between you and the rest of the group. “Mina wanted to know if she could sleep over tonight,” he said, his voice gentle.

“To keep you company.”

You hesitated for just a second before nodding. “That sounds nice,” you said, offering a small, grateful smile. Izuku nodded back, his concern evident, before he ducked back inside to deliver the message.

Todoroki stepped closer, his expression neutral but his eyes studying you intently. “Is there anything I could do for you?” he asked.

You nodded again, this time with a little more conviction. “Yeah. Could you let everyone know goodnight for me? I’ll see them later.”

Shoto inclined his head, ever the picture of grace. “Of course.” He turned, but not before casting a pointed glance toward Kirishima, who had Katsuki in a firm grip, dragging him back up the street. Katsuki’s expression was dark, his jaw set tight as he fought against Kirishima’s determined hold.

With a polite bow, Todoroki said goodnight to Eri and Asuna before slipping back inside. The door swung shut behind him, muffling the warm chatter from within the ramen shop and leaving only the chill night air between you and the others.

You adjusted Asuna in your arms, her fingers playing with the ends of your hair. Eri stood by Shinsou, who offered her a lazy smile as he handed her a paper crane he’d folded from a receipt. Aizawa lingered nearby, his gaze flicking between you and Katsuki as if assessing the situation.

Kirishima finally reached you, his grip firm on Katsuki’s arm. “Got him,” he said lightly, trying to inject some humor into the tension, though his smile faltered when Katsuki pulled his arm free with a sharp jerk.

Katsuki stood there, his breathing uneven, his crimson eyes locked onto yours. There was something raw in his gaze, something unspoken that made your chest tighten painfully. You didn’t want to do this—not now, not in front of everyone.

‘I’m gonna pack my things and leave you behind,’

You thought bitterly, the lyrics echoing in your head as you stared him down. The words felt like they were burning through your veins, but you didn’t dare say them aloud. Instead, you kept your voice steady.

“I told you we’d talk tomorrow, Backugou.”

Katsuki clenched his fists in his pockets, his lips parting as if to argue, but then his gaze flicked to Asuna in your arms. Her face half buried in your coat but one ruby eye watching him carefully. Your hand rubbing her back in a soothing manner. Then he thought of Rita. The fight seemed to drain out of him, and he exhaled sharply, turning his head away as if the sight of you hurt.

‘Let me go.’

‘Let me go, so I can let you go.’

‘Let me go, so I can finally get you out of my head.’

‘Let me go, so I can finally let you free myself.’

'Let me go, so I can finally be free.'

'Please don't let me go.'

You wanted to scream.

But you stayed silent, clutching Asuna tighter, using her steady warmth to keep yourself from crumbling. Eri tugged at Shinsou’s sleeve, asking something in a soft voice. Shinsou nodded and guided her toward Aizawa, murmuring something about getting her home.

Aizawa hesitated for a moment, his gaze heavy on you before he finally nodded, giving you space.

Kirishima cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess we’ll head back inside,” he said, his usual cheer muted. He gave you a nod before dragging Katsuki back a step, though Katsuki didn’t resist this time.

You watched them retreat, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs. Asuna leaned back to look at you, her hand cupping your cheek.

“Mama, are you okay?”

You kissed her forehead, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you lied. You glanced back at Katsuki one last time before turning toward her fully, determined to leave the broken pieces of this night behind you.

The tension hung thick in the air, clinging to your every breath as you tried to steady yourself. A hand landed lightly on your shoulder, and you turned to see Shinsou, his violet eyes steady but kind.

"I'll drive you home," he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Aizawa will probably call you later.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you smoothed a hand over Asuna’s hair. “Alright,” you murmured, pulling yourself together. Shinsou reached into the bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a takeout bag.

“Got your usual,” he said, offering it with a slight smirk. “Figured you’d need it.”

Your stomach clenched, not from hunger but from the way Katsuki’s gaze flared at the sight of the bag. His jaw tightened, and you could almost see the flicker of heat behind his eyes. Shinsou, unbothered, simply handed you the bag like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough for Asuna to catch on. She rattled the convenience store bags on her wrists, drawing attention away as she chimed, “I got the drugs.”

You smiled at her, grateful, before lightly pinching her side as she squealed, and then made the mistake of looking at Katsuki again.

He was still standing there, his chest rising and falling with a deliberate slowness as if he were forcing himself to breathe. His crimson eyes met yours, holding them for a beat too long before he nodded curtly.

“Goodnight,” he said, the words low and controlled. He glanced at Asuna, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly.

Now they were staring at each other.

Katsuki’s eyes roamed over Asuna’s face, a mosaic of features that mirrored yours and yet held something wholly her own. Those bright vermillion eyes—the same shade as his—caught his attention, and for a moment, he looked almost lost, like he was piecing together a puzzle he didn’t know he was holding.

Asuna’s expression, on the other hand, was a mix of defiance and thinly veiled disgust. Her brows furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line, but she held his gaze, committing it to memory as though it were a necessary evil. The air between them was electric, charged with unspoken questions and tangled emotions neither seemed willing to voice.

It was strange.

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment. “Goodnight, Kirishima,” you said, turning to the redhead who stood a few feet back, trying to look inconspicuous but clearly on edge.

He smiled warmly, a balm to the tension. “Goodnight. All of you,” he said. Then, looking at Asuna, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hero card, passing it to her with a reassuring grin.

“Call if you need anything, alright?”

Asuna stared at the card for a moment before taking it with a light nod.

“Thanks,” she said sweetly, turning to leave with you. But as you walked toward Shinsou’s sleek black Mustang, her hands shot behind her back, and she flashed both middle fingers toward Katsuki and Kirishima.

You barely caught the motion, her defiant smirk fading into feigned innocence by the time you glanced at her. Shinsou, already at the car, opened the door for you and Asuna.

“Ladies first,” he quipped, gesturing with a mock bow.

Asuna climbed in without hesitation, sliding into the passenger seat and tossing the bags beside her. You followed, settling into shotgun as Shinsou closed the door with a quiet finality.

Katsuki and Kirishima were still standing there as Shinsou pulled onto the street, the Mustang’s engine purring like a contented cat. You didn’t look back, but Asuna did, her gaze lingering on the shrinking figures in the rearview glass.

The silence in the car was thick but not suffocating, and you let your head rest against the cool window, the takeout bag clutched in your lap. Shinsou glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

“Ready to call it a night?” he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet. You closed your eyes and exhaled, feeling the weight of the evening settle over you.

“ Yeah ,” you whispered, the word carrying more exhaustion than you intended.

As the city lights blurred past, you reached back to squeeze Asuna’s hand, grateful for her warmth and resilience. Whatever this mess was, you’d figure it out. For her.

For both of you.

The Mustang’s tail lights disappeared into the night, leaving Kirishima and Katsuki standing under the dim glow of the ramen shop’s sign. The street was quiet except for the occasional rumble of a passing car and the faint hum of city life in the distance. Kirishima let out a low whistle, his hands on his hips as he turned to look at Katsuki.

“ Damn ,” Kirishima muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “That kid’s got some fire in her. Just like you, man.”

Katsuki didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on the spot where the Mustang had vanished, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. His hands hung at his sides, twitching with leftover adrenaline and something he couldn’t quite name.

“You’re gonna burn yourself out if you keep this up,” Kirishima said gently, stepping closer. “C’mon, man. Let’s get you out of here. My truck’s right here. You can crash at my place tonight.”

Katsuki finally turned his head, meeting Kirishima’s steady gaze. His eyes burned with exhaustion and something deeper—something raw and unspoken. But he nodded, his shoulders slumping just enough to show he was done fighting, at least for now.

Kirishima clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a small, reassuring shake before heading toward the truck. “I already took care of the squad's bill,” he called over his shoulder, trying to keep the mood light.

Katsuki followed in silence, his legs feeling like lead as he climbed into the passenger seat. He slumped against the seatback, his head resting against the window. His skin felt tight, his throat dry. He didn’t say a word as Kirishima slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

The truck rumbled to life, and Kirishima glanced at him before pulling onto the road. “You good?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“ Yeah ,” Katsuki muttered, though he didn’t sound convincing. He didn’t feel convincing either. His body ached, and his head was a mess, tangled in thoughts he couldn’t untangle if he tried.

As the truck rolled through the city, Katsuki stared out the window. The neon signs, the glow of streetlights, and the occasional flash of a passing car reflected on the glass, blending into a kaleidoscope of colors. The city moved on, oblivious to the storm raging inside him.

The last 24 hours replayed in his head like a movie stuck on a loop.

You. Asuna. Shinsou. The confrontation. The questions. The overwhelming emotions that had left him spinning. And those last two hours—those played louder than anything else. Your face. The way your voice cracked when you spoke to him. The way you looked at Asuna, at Shinsou, at him. He couldn’t shake it.

Couldn’t shake you .

His fists clenched in his lap as he thought of you with someone else, of the life you’d built after him. The idea that you’d given your heart, your trust, to someone who had burned you. The father of your child. A child who shared his crimson eyes.

Asuna

‘Did Asuna have siblings?’

Katsuki didn’t think so.

But he didn’t know anymore.

He didn’t know what to think about anything.

Katsuki let out a long breath, his gaze shifting upward, past the skyline and the glowing city lights, to the faint glimmer of stars above. They seemed so far away, so out of reach, like everything he wanted but couldn’t have.

Kirishima’s voice broke the silence. “Hey, you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?”

Katsuki grunted, his head tipping slightly in acknowledgment, but he didn’t answer.

As the truck turned onto the highway, the steady rhythm of the tires against the road filled the cab, a soothing backdrop to the chaos in his head. Katsuki blinked slowly, his eyes heavy, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

He let his gaze drift back to the stars for a moment longer before closing his eyes. The last thing he saw was the faint shimmer of light on the horizon. Then he let the darkness take him, the sound of the road lulling him into a restless sleep.

—

The house was warm and alive with the gentle hum of the washing machine and the faint sound of a true-crime podcast Shinsou had absentmindedly put on. He sprawled across the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed, one eye lazily on you as you bustled around with a basket of laundry.

Your home in one of Japan's well known volcanoes had an ever-present, soothing warmth that could only be found in a place tied so deeply to your quirk. The low hum of molten lava flowing beneath the house was almost like a heartbeat, steady and comforting. Soft, golden light filtered through the high windows, casting gentle shadows over the sleek, maximalist furniture that adorned your living space.

Every detail was intentional, from the geothermal-powered appliances to the vibrant, living plants that thrived despite the volcanic heat. It was secluded, a haven tucked away from the chaos of the city, and the perfect place to recharge—though it did make visitors rare.

Perfect place to raise a fiery young upstart too.

Asuna was perched on a stool by the kitchen counter, her oversized black hoodie swallowing her frame, paired with Hello Kitty pajama pants that spoke of her half-hearted rebellion. Her hair was tied back in a silk scarf, messy strands framing her sharp, youthful face as she absently scrolled through her phone.

You stretched with a groan, your back cracking audibly. “ Finally ,” you muttered, tossing a few shirts into the washer with a little more vigor than necessary. Shinsou snickered from the couch, his tired, amused gaze tracking your movements.

“You look like you just lost a fight with a dryer sheet,” he teased, pulling a throw pillow under his head.

“Stuff it, Hitoshi,” you shot back, grinning despite yourself. Asuna snickered, shaking her head as she grabbed the jacket draped over the back of a chair.

“Mom,” she said suddenly, holding it up for you to see.

“ Whose jacket is this ?”

You froze mid-step, turning to face her.

For a second, the sight of it didn’t register—the familiar black fabric with bold orange stripes along the sleeves—but then it hit you. Katsuki’s jacket. The one he’d draped over your shoulders earlier, his gruff voice saying, “You’re shivering, dumbass. Take it.”

Your jaw dropped, and you let out a half-strangled noise, a mix between a gasp and a yelp.

“ Oh my god!”

“ What?!” Asuna asked, her eyes wide and freaked out as she clutched the jacket tighter. Her question only deepened your horror.

“ Nothing! ” you said quickly, your voice pitching higher than you’d like. “It’s nothing. A... a friend let me borrow it because I was cold.” You plastered on a smile, praying she wouldn’t dig deeper.

To your relief, she gave you a knowing smile that was somehow both sweet and teasing.

“Oh, a friend ,” she said, emphasizing the word with a sly lift of her brow.

“ Don’t ,” you warned, pointing at her dramatically.

“Don’t even start.”

Asuna chuckled, her red eyes— so much like her father’s —dancing with amusement as she turned and carried the jacket to the washer. She dropped it in without a second thought, closing the lid with a satisfying thud.

You exhaled deeply, the tightness in your chest loosening slightly.

Tomorrow.

You’d just have to return it tomorrow when you saw Katsuki at the park.

No big deal.

From the couch, Shinsou arched a brow at you, his smirk bordering on smug. “You’re gonna ‘borrow’ his jacket now, huh?” he said, voice low and teasing. You quickly looked from him to Asuna, who was too far into the hallway to hear, thankfully before you shot a look at the wonka haired shit talker.

“ Go fuck yourself, ” you groaned, throwing a sock at him. It missed, landing limply on the floor, but the effort made him laugh under his breath.

“Sure, surrre ,” he drawled, shifting to make himself more comfortable. “I’ll just sit here and quietly judge.”

“Good,” you shot back, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

Asuna reappeared from the laundry room, already yawning as she stretched her arms over her head. “It’s past 9, I’m going to bed,” she announced, giving you a soft smile.

“Love you, Mom. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gave you a tight hug that you returned before she just as quickly scampered off. You didn’t take it personally though, knowing she had a set schedule and would wake soon enough at 5am to train.

“I love you too, baby,” you said, your voice warm as you watched her shuffle toward the stairs.

Asuna paused at the base of the steps, turning to glance at Shinsou.

“I tolerate you,” she said flatly, though her lips curved into a small, mischievous grin. “Might see you tomorrow, if you’re not dead after patrol.”

Shinsou laughed dryly, raising a hand in mock salute. “Nice to know where I stand.”

Asuna’s grin widened, and with that, she headed upstairs, her footsteps light as she disappeared into her room.

The apartment fell quiet again, save for the faint whir of the washer and the muffled sounds from Shinsou’s podcast. You sighed deeply, the weight of the day settling on your shoulders as you finally let yourself collapse onto the floor.

The coffee table screeched against the hardwood as you kicked it aside, sprawling out on your back with your arms stretched overhead. The cool surface of the floor felt grounding, and you stared up at the ceiling, letting the stillness wash over you.

“You good?” Shinsou asked from the couch, his voice softer now, his teasing tone replaced with genuine concern.

You nodded without looking at him. “Just... processing.”

“Fair enough,” he murmured, turning his attention back to his phone.

For now, you let yourself breathe, focusing on the steady hum of the washer and the faint flicker of light from the living room lamp. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

Hours had gone by and you were going crazy.

Focusing on the TV was becoming more and more difficult. The ramen Hitoshi bought you was already eaten, you placed both bouquets of flowers into water through sheer reluctance. Mina still hadn’t shown up yet and you were dying for her company. Hitoshi ate the eggrolls from earlier, which you didn’t mind because you didn’t have the appetite for them anyway.

Shinsou was sprawled on the plush gray sectional, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a book in the other, while you folded laundry at the coffee table. The washer hummed softly in the background, and you worked in companionable silence, the volcanic glow giving everything an otherworldly warmth.

“Christmas plans?” Shinsou asked suddenly, his tone casual but curious as he set the book aside.

You glanced up, folding the last shirt and setting it down. “I want to make it special this year,” you admitted, your voice soft.

He raised a brow. “For Asuna?”

You nodded, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you leaned against the counter. “She’s been doing so well. Top 1% in her school, passing all her exams. And Mirko accepted her as an intern! She’s been over the moon about it.”

Shinsou smirked, resting his head against the couch. “Can’t blame her. Mirko’s no joke.”

“She’s been training so hard, balancing school and the pressure. I’m just... so proud of her,” you said, your voice filled with warmth and pride. You picked up a stray sock, absentmindedly rolling it into a ball as you continued. “I want this Christmas to be perfect for her. She deserves it.”

Shinsou nodded, his expression softening as he listened. “Sounds like she’s lucky to have you. Most parents would just toss some gifts under the tree and call it a day.”

You chuckled, though the sound was tinged with nervousness. “You know I couldn’t do that. She’s my one and only.” You turned away, placing the folded laundry into a nearby basket. The pause lingered, stretching the space between your words.

Shinsou noticed.

He always did.

He tilted his head, watching you closely. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

You hesitated, your hands stilling as you gripped the edge of the counter. “I just...” you started, then faltered, unable to find the words.

Shinsou sighed, setting his mug down and standing. He walked over, leaning against the island across from you.

“It’s about Katsuki, isn’t it?”

The mention of his name felt like a jolt, and you looked up sharply, your eyes meeting Shinsou’s.

The lights around you seemed to flicker, their glow dimming and brightening in sync with the fiery pulse beneath your skin. For a fleeting moment, crimson sparks danced across your veins, crackling like embers struggling to ignite. The air around you felt heavier, charged with a tension that wasn't entirely your own. You clenched your fists, willing the heat to subside, but the surge of emotion refused to be ignored.

He knew the rules here—every unspoken boundary, every landmine that had been laid in the fragile aftermath of your past. It wasn’t like your ex’s name was a curse, but the weight it carried might as well have been. It was a spark to kindling, an uninvited ghost dragging its chains through the carefully rebuilt calm of your life.

His gaze flickered to you, cautious but steady, the silent question hanging in the space between you both.

“I’m not judging,” Shinsou said gently, his tone understanding. “But if he’s going to be part of this picture, you need to figure out where you stand. For yourself. For Asuna.”

You sighed deeply, running a hand through your hair. “I know,” you whispered. “I just... I don’t want to mess this up. For her. For us.”

Shinsou crossed his arms, his gaze steady but kind. “You’ve done a good job raising her, even with all the craziness. She’s strong, smart, and honestly? She’s a little terrifying in the best way possible. You’ve got this.”

His words settled over you, grounding and reassuring. You managed a small smile, grateful for his steady presence.

“Thanks, Hitoshi,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

The familiar chime of the door alert snapped you out of your thoughts.

You wiped your hands on your pants and checked the cameras, exhaling when you saw Mina’s pink, flushed face staring into the lens. She was sweaty but smiling, giving a little wave as if to say, I made it, finally.

You opened the door, and before you could say a word, Mina enveloped you in one of her bone-crushing hugs, squeezing you tight as if she could physically inject you with her endless energy and warmth.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she blurted out, pulling back slightly to look at you, her golden eyes glinting with concern. “We had to stop a villain trying to rob the city bank a few hours ago. It was a mess, but we got them!”

Your eyes widened, and you felt Shinsou shift behind you, his sharp intake of breath mirroring your own. “Mina,” you started, your voice thin with worry, “why didn’t you—”

She cut you off with a reassuring smile, holding up her hands. “You couldn’t have known, okay? Don’t blame yourself. We handled it.” Her tone was light, but her gaze flicked over you, taking in your exhaustion and the faint tremor in your shoulders.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. Everything Mina said blurred in your mind as the memories hit, triggered by her presence, by the safety she brought even in the chaos.

It wasn’t just the fight a few days ago that had left you physically and emotionally battered. It was waking up to a world that had shifted without you, to news plastered everywhere about your grandmother’s death—a beacon of your life suddenly snuffed out. The hospital TV hadn’t stood a chance against the projectile vomit that came up when you’d seen it, the molten heat of your quirk melting the screen to slag.

You remembered waking up disoriented, Asuna at your bedside, her face etched with an anguish you’d never seen before. That was what broke you more than anything.

Seeing your child so lost. She had only ever known you and your grandmother.

And now it was just you.

A sob rose in your throat as Mina hugged you again, her energy softening, her arms anchoring you as you let yourself cry. The memories rushed over you like waves.

Your grandmother had been there when Asuna was born, cutting the cord with steady hands and a teary smile. Aizawa had brought flowers when he visited your hospital room, his stoic demeanor hiding the tenderness in his gesture. Mina had declared herself Asuna’s godmother with absolute authority, showing up with the most delicious post-birth meal you’d ever seen. Shinsou had brought cat-themed pajamas for Asuna, holding her like she was made of porcelain, his normally dry humor replaced with quiet reverence.

And your grandmother had known everything. She’d known the truth about Asuna’s father. She’d told you she’d handle it if you didn’t. “You take care of your baby,” she had said, her tone unyielding as steel, “and I’ll take care of mine.”

And now she was gone.

You felt Mina’s arms tighten around you, her cheek resting on your shoulder as if to shield you from your own grief. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice warm and steady, “We’ve got you. We’re your village.”

“You’re not alone.”

You cried harder at that, the weight of the past and present colliding in your chest. Mina held you, her vibrant presence grounding you as the grief poured out, a release you hadn’t let yourself have until now.

Behind you, Shinsou stood silently, his gaze softening as he gave you space to lean on someone else. In this moment, you weren’t the one holding it all together. You were just you, surrounded by people who refused to let you fall.

And then you fell in the doorway, taking Mina with you.

The second Shinsou saw you break down in Mina’s arms, he stood from the couch without hesitation. His steps were deliberate but gentle, as if moving too quickly might make things worse. Without a word, he crouched beside you, his arms wrapping around your trembling form from the other side.

It wasn’t long before the three of you slid down to the floor in the doorway, your back against the cool frame as your sobs filled the space. Shinsou’s hug was firm, steadying, while Mina’s was warm and grounding. They didn’t try to shush you or tell you it was okay—they just held on tighter as you unraveled.

The tears came harder, your chest heaving with the weight of everything you’d been holding back. You weren’t just crying about today. It was everything—years of pain, fear, and exhaustion crashing over you all at once.

“I failed her,” you choked out between sobs, your voice thick with guilt. “I’ve failed Asuna. I’ve failed her so many times.”

“No, you haven’t,” Mina murmured, her voice soft but unyielding. “You’ve done so much for her. Look at her—she’s thriving.”

But you couldn’t stop the flood of memories.

You cried at the thought of all the times you felt like you couldn’t measure up, couldn’t be enough for your daughter. Mina had been there during your pregnancy, covering for you when your body gave out, when the world was demanding you be more than you could. She’d gone to battle for you, doing hero work in your name so you could recover without the public eye dissecting your every move.

You remembered your manager, Elle’s, tireless efforts to shield you. She’d blocked contact from the outside world, pretending to be you for photoshoots and promotional materials if it came down to it, ensuring that Asuna stayed your best-kept secret.

The nights Aizawa sat up with you played in your mind, his quiet presence keeping you company as he shared his parenting books and advice. He never judged, never questioned your decisions—he was just there, steady as ever. Shinsou’s midnight drives surfaced too, his dry but loving humor making the miles pass faster as he indulged your spicy cravings, no matter how absurd.

And then there were the tokens of your grandmother’s love. The tiny hats, socks, and blankets she made for her great-grandchild, each stitch a testament to her pride and care. You thought about the Christmas gifts still waiting at her house, already wrapped, waiting for a holiday she wouldn’t see.

Your sobs became more ragged as a new wave of grief surged through you. “Katsuki,” you whispered, his name slipping out unbidden. Saying it felt like tearing open an old wound.

Mina and Shinsou didn’t need to ask.

They just held you tighter.

You wept harder at the thought of him—his stormy eyes and the memories that refused to leave you alone. The way he had once been your world, and the way he unknowingly left you with the greatest and most complicated gift of your life. The idea of seeing him tomorrow, of returning the jacket, of carrying the truth that you still couldn’t share—

It was too much.

Your fists clenched in their holds, your body trembling as you sobbed into the quiet. Mina rested her chin on your shoulder, rocking you slightly, while Shinsou pressed his forehead against the top of your head, his grip solid and unwavering.

“We’ve got you,” Shinsou said, his voice low and steady. “We’ve always got you.”

You let their words and presence anchor you as you cried until there was nothing left.

Eventually, yo exhaled shakily as your breathing finally steadied, and Shinsou rose to his feet, pulling you and Mina up with him. His grip was firm but gentle, his sharp eyes scanning your face to ensure you were truly okay. Satisfied, he gave a small nod, grabbed his jacket, and made his way to the door.

“Call like usual,” you reminded him, your voice still a little hoarse.

He paused, throwing a lazy salute your way. “Always will.”

Mina leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “Don’t worry about her, Hitoshi. I’ve got her covered. You just go terrorize the villains like the grumpy cat you are.”

Shinsou raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “And you try not to melt the place while I’m gone, Pinky.” She stuck out her tongue at him, and with a final wave, he disappeared into the night.

Mina shut the door and turned to you, her expression softening. She didn’t say anything immediately, just made a beeline for your fridge. The quiet hum of the appliance filled the air as she rummaged around before pulling out a can of her favorite strawberry soda. She pressed the icy metal to her flushed cheeks with a sigh of relief.

“I love your place, you know that?” she said, her voice light but tinged with teasing. “But seriously, would it kill you to crank the AC? It feels like I ran a marathon to get here.”

You chuckled softly, leaning against the kitchen island. “I keep it cool in Asuna’s room. She can’t stand the heat.”

Mina nodded, cracking open the soda and taking a long sip. Then, setting the can down, she shuffled over to where you stood. Without a word, she reached out, taking one of your hands in both of hers. Her fingers were cool from the soda, and the simple gesture made your chest tighten all over again.

“I know things have been… rough this past week,” she began, her voice unusually serious. Her golden eyes searched yours, filled with concern. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. And I really didn’t know Katsuki was going to… do that.”

You felt your throat tighten again, but you squeezed her hands back, managing a small laugh.

“It’s okay. I don’t think he knew he was going to do that either.”

The two of you fell silent for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling in. Finally, you pulled away gently, opening the fridge to retrieve a bottle of green tea. The cold glass felt grounding in your hands, even if you had no real desire to drink it.

Mina perched herself on one of the kitchen stools, swirling the remaining soda in her can. “He’s always grumpy around this time of year, you know,” she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the countertop. “The night you two broke up… it was Christmas Eve. And technically Christmas Day was when you moved out.”

You sighed heavily, nodding as you unscrewed the cap from your tea. “I know. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I just…” You trailed off, words failing you as memories threatened to resurface.

Mina reached out, resting a hand on your arm. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” she said gently. “But you do need to let yourself feel it. Whatever it is.”

You nodded again, staring into the pale green liquid as if it held the answers. The two of you stayed like that, quiet but connected, as the soft hum of the volcano-powered home wrapped around you both like a warm, steady heartbeat.

Mina lifted the soda and took a sip before looking at you, her expression softening. “How’s Asuna holding up?”

You sighed, setting the tea bottle aside and hoisting yourself onto the counter, crossing your legs. “Honestly? I don’t know. She’s my little rock. She’s always been so strong, but I’m really worried about her.”

Mina frowned but stayed quiet, letting you continue.

“She’s only cried once since everything happened—at the hospital,” you said, your voice faltering slightly.

“And she told me herself that she broke down during exams a few times. I think Kayama-sensei even emailed or texted me about it, but I never got around to checking.”

You rubbed your temples, frustration and guilt creeping in. “I think she’s trying to be strong for me, which is exactly what I don’t want. She’s sixteen, Mina. She should be able to express herself, to fall apart… at home, where she’s safe.”

Mina nodded, her pink brows furrowing in thought. “Everyone processes grief differently, you know? Maybe Asuna just needs time to work through it her way.”

You nodded, but your shoulders slumped as you added, “I know, but her temper…” You trailed off, your lips pressing into a tight line. “When Asuna loses her temper, it’s like a nuke exploding. She’s been asking weird questions lately, too, and I don’t want a ticking time bomb on my hands.”

Mina tilted her head, curious. “Weird questions? Like what?”

You looked at her, hesitating, and she immediately pieced it together. Her expression softened, and she murmured,

“Oh.”

You nodded, your voice quieter now. “About her father. She’s been asking more and more. I’ve never given her much to go on. Just that he’s a man I went to school with, that things didn’t work out, and he was always more into his work than anything else. We… we parted ways. That’s all I told her.”

Mina’s eyes held a mixture of understanding and concern, but she didn’t push. Instead, she waited as you stared off, lost in the memories that began to wash over you.

The first time you held her. That tiny, warm bundle laid gently on your chest after hours of labor. She was so small, her full head of hair damp against her delicate skin, and her cries—soft but strong—rang out. The sweet, almost otherworldly smell of her. When she opened her eyes, red as fire.

Those same eyes you had tried so hard to leave behind.

It had been so much.

Too much.

The breakup, the media frenzy, being surrounded by old friends constantly. Then, just as you were piecing yourself back together, the nausea hit. That grilled fish someone offered you after a patrol had you puking onto the office floor in front of a dozen horrified colleagues.

At first, everyone thought it was some concussion reaction. You’d been rushed to the hospital by your manager for every possible test—scans, bloodwork, everything—until one very specific blood test confirmed it:

Five weeks pregnant.

You’d felt a rush of something indescribable when the nurse handed you the results, congratulating you with a warm smile. “Are you sure?” you’d asked, almost breathless.

She laughed, nodding. “Very sure. Congratulations, Mama. Your follow-up with the OB-GYN is already scheduled.”

You’d walked out of the hospital on cloud nine

Until reality hit. Your life was no longer just yours. You were 21, at the very start of your hero career and life as a young woman. No husband, no boyfriend, no partner. In a world that was dangerous on the best of days. Literally employed to kick ass and possibly get your ass kicked in the name of justice.

Without thinking, you called Aizawa. The groggy sound of him waking up still echoed in your memory. He’d mumbled something incoherent, but when you said you were at the hospital, needed a ride, and, oh yeah, you were pregnant—there was a loud crash. You’d later learned he fell out of bed, taking the cat tree with him.

He showed up, though. Of course, he did. He always had. From that night onward, he was there for every moment, a steady presence as you figured out how to navigate the chaos.

Mina’s voice brought you back. “You okay?”

You blinked and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… thinking about everything. Aizawa’s always been there for me, you know? Like a dad. But he has his own kid to finish raising, and he’s already done so much for me.”

Mina tilted her head, watching you carefully.

You sighed. “He thinks Katsuki has a right to know. About Asuna.”

Mina didn’t say anything right away, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. Finally, she reached for your hand again, giving it a squeeze. “Do you think he’s ready to know?”

You exhaled shakily, unsure of the answer.

You shook your head slowly, staring down at your hands. “I don’t think so,” you admitted quietly. “But I don’t know if that’s because I’m scared of how it’ll affect Asuna. She’s doing so well in school right now. I don’t want to ruin that for her.” You paused, your voice faltering.

“Or if it’s because Katsuki… he’s different now. Changed.”

Mina’s lips pursed thoughtfully as she leaned back against the counter. “Yeah, he has been a little off lately. Like, really off. More than usual. He’s in a slump, even if he won’t admit it.”

You glanced at her, curiosity mingling with concern. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, tipping her head back as if to gather her thoughts. “He came into the office this morning, right? Had all these random frozen things we forgot about—bread, soy sauce, and stuff. He just started throwing them at us.”

You blinked, a soft, “Ah,” slipping out as you remembered Denki and Sero recounting the same ridiculous story earlier to cheer you up.

“Exactly,” Mina said, pointing at you. “Then he went into Kirishima’s office, and the two of them stayed in there for almost two hours. No one wanted to get in or figure out what they were talking about. When Katsuki finally came out, he just… left. For the rest of the day. No one could reach him.”

You frowned, worry gnawing at you.

“Kirishima ended up tracking him down and bringing him to the ramen place,” Mina continued, crossing her arms. “When he got there, Katsuki looked like he’d been crying. Like, actual crying.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt.

“After that, they hit up a convenience store with Izuku and Todoroki. By the time Katsuki came back to the office, you’d already shown up, and then you two disappeared outside for hours to talk.”

You nodded slowly, trying to piece together your emotions. Mina didn’t press, though you could tell she was dying to ask what had been said. Instead, you filled the silence. “We’re meeting tomorrow. At noon. He’s bringing back some old pictures of mine.”

Mina’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You’re meeting with him? Are you… are you ready for that?”

“No,” you admitted bluntly, trying to muster a smirk and failing. “But I’ve been through worse.”

She shook her head at you, her gaze unwavering. “You’re still not over him,” she said quietly, but there was no judgment in her voice.

Just the undeniable truth.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You swallowed, suddenly feeling very small as you sat there, trying to sort through everything churning inside you.

Your kitchen was cozy, a mix of soft colors and warm woods that made it feel like a sanctuary. Potted herbs sat on the windowsill, their fresh scents mingling with the faint aroma of lavender from a nearby diffuser.

A large window dominated one side of the kitchen, offering a breathtaking view of the sky and ocean, with greenery swaying gently in the breeze below. The moonlight streaming through painted everything in a soft glow, making the plants look even more vibrant. A few hanging planters dangled above the sink, their long vines brushing against the backsplash tiles like a living curtain.

Mina glanced outside, a hand dramatically fanning her face. “This view is gorgeous, but why does it feel like a sauna in here?” You laughed and got up, heading to the freezer. “Need some frozen chocolate?”

She shook her head but eyed you skeptically. “No thanks, but maybe some ice would help before I melt into a puddle.”

With a grin, you popped open an ice mold, revealing perfectly shaped rose cubes. “Here, delicate as you are.” You handed her a few, and she took them with exaggerated reverence, gently pressing them to her temples before finishing her soda with a satisfied sigh.

“This is why I come here,” Mina said, leaning back against the counter. “Cozy kitchen, ocean views, and rose-shaped ice cubes. You spoil me.”

“I aim to please,” you said, tossing a few frozen corn bits at her before closing the freezer door with your hip. The pinkette yelped in mock indignation. “You and Katsuki both have this terrible habit of attacking your friends with frozen food. Is this a tradition or something?”

You smirked, about to fire back a retort when something clicked in your mind.

“The will!”

Mina raised an eyebrow. “The what now?”

You rushed into the living room, almost took out your coffee table, phone snatched in hand, scrolling furiously through your messages. The airy, open space was just as homey as the kitchen, filled with bookshelves and soft throws draped over furniture. Lavalight spilled through another set of large windows, highlighting the TV and a small jade tree perched on the side table.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Texting Katsuki felt daunting, a weight you weren’t quite ready to carry tonight. Mina followed you, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“What’s going on?” she asked, plopping onto the floor beside you as you sat down in frustration.

With a groan, you explained, “My cousin’s contesting the will. It only mentions Asuna and me, so if I don’t get the original document, the judge might split everything fifty-fifty. I can’t even get into the house because the sheriff put a lock on it.” You covered your face, sliding further down until your back hit the floor.

Mina sat cross-legged beside you, shaking her head. “Why don’t I just call him? Katsuki doesn’t have to know I know about Asuna.”

“No,” you said firmly, sitting up with a glare. “If he found out you knew and didn’t tell him, he’d never speak to you again.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “How would he even figure that out from a phone call?”

You groaned, making a faint, frustrated noise as you flopped back down. Mina, clearly undeterred, grabbed your phone. “Hey, your voicemail box has something.”

Curious, you let her play it. Katsuki’s voice filled the room, calm but tinged with his usual gruffness. “Hey, uh… I forgot to give ya that binder after all that stuff earlier. I’ll bring it to the park tomorrow with the other things. Just lemme know if that works.”

The relief hit you like a wave, your chest tightening as you nearly sobbed. “Oh my God, thank you,” you breathed, staring at the phone like it had just saved your life.

Then your eyes widened in realization.

“Tomorrow’s the last day of school before winter break. Asuna gets out at noon.”

Mina raised an eyebrow. “So? Text Aizawa to watch her for a bit.”

You winced. “He and Eri are going straight home to nap and then going Christmas tree shopping. I don’t want to mess with that. Eri’s been looking forward to it for weeks.”

“Fair point.” Mina tapped her chin, then grinned. “What about Mirko?”

Your face lit up as you immediately texted the six-foot-tall bunny hero. Not even a minute passed before your phone rang, Mirko’s name flashing on the screen.

Mommy Rabbit 🤤🥰 is Calling

“Don’t tell me you’re asking for babysitting favors,” Rumi teased the moment you answered, her tone light but curious. “Would you believe me if I said it’s a long story?” you replied, half-laughing, your heart easing at the sound of her familiar voice.

The warm lava light cast a soft glow as you leaned against the sofa, phone cradled to your ear. Mina sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping the last of her soda, while Rumi’s voice boomed from the speaker with her usual energy.

“Long story, huh?” Rumi teased. “Didn’t take you for the fairy tale type.”

“It’s not like that!” you said with a laugh. “Asuna gets out of school early tomorrow, and I’ve got to meet someone. I didn’t know who else to ask.”

“Relax, I’m just teasing,” Rumi replied, her tone softening. “Of course, I’ll watch my favorite stinker! How’s she been doing anyway? Still blowing things up, or have we learned some self-control?”

Mina grinned, joining the conversation. “She’s actually been amazing! Aizawa’s been working with her on technique, and she’s gotten so good at regulating her quirk. Like, scary good.”

You nodded in agreement, your heart swelling with pride. “She’s not just controlling it; it’s like she’s physic. She’s using her quirk in ways I hadn’t even considered.”

“That’s my girl,” Rumi said with a laugh. “Sounds like she’s got a little stone-cold killer in her, just like her mom.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was impossible to hide. “Aizawa’s been incredible too. He’s agreed to keep working with her over winter break, which is such a relief. He really gets her.”

“Yeah, Eraser’s good like that,” Rumi agreed. “But don’t give him all the credit. You’re the one raising her, and it sounds like you’re doing a damn good job.”

Mina raised her drink in a mock toast. “Hear, hear!”

You chuckled, grateful for their encouragement. “Thanks, you two.”

“So, what about you?” Mina asked Rumi. “Got any Christmas plans, or are you just winging it like always?”

Rumi snorted. “You know me too well. I’ve got nothing concrete, but Taishiro and I were talking about maybe checking out the light displays. If you and Asuna are free, you should come with us.”

“Asuna would love that,” you said instantly. “Let’s do it.”

“Perfect. I’ll let you know when we figure out the details,” Rumi said. Then, her tone turned serious, though her warmth remained. “And you, missy—keep hanging on. It’s easier to fall apart than to put yourself back together, but I know you. You’ll be back to being the woman I know and love before the year is out.”

“If not,” she added with a playful growl, “I’ll happily kick your ass into shape.”

The three of you burst into laughter, the sound filling the cozy living room like a balm for your soul.

Love you, you big bunny,” you said, making exaggerated kissy noises into the phone.

“Love you too,” Mina added, joining in with her own obnoxious smooches.

“Alright, alright, enough of that!” Rumi laughed. “I’ve got to get back to patrol. Catch you ladies later.”

She hung up, leaving you and Mina sitting in the lingering warmth of her encouragement. The sound of the waves outside the window and the rustling leaves in the breeze seemed to echo her words, grounding you in the moment.

Mina tilted her head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Wait, what did Rumi mean about Asuna blowing things up? I thought her quirk didn’t work like that.”

You sighed, setting the phone on the coffee table and crossing your arms. The lava streaming through the windows danced across the warm wooden tones of the floor, highlighting the cream carpet and photos arranged neatly on the fireplace. A pothos plant spilled its green vines down the wall, and the faint scent of rosemary from the herb garden lingered in the air.

“Well,” you began, leaning your hip against the table's leg, “Asuna got Rita’s quirk with... traces of Katsuki’s and mine. Her main ability is creating energy fields for offense, defense, and protection. At first, she could only make force fields, basic stuff, ya know? And my grandma was the one who helped her figure that out.”

Mina nodded, leaning forward, her interest piqued. “Okay, that makes sense. Force Fields are practical. Useful.”

“Right. Then she started producing powerful energy blasts, and that’s where I came in,” you continued, gesturing with your hands. “I helped her learn to control the intensity and precision of her blasts. But then Asuna realized she could channel the energy into these tiny, marble-sized balls... and set them to explode.”

Mina’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“Yeah.” You grimaced, running a hand through your hair. “The results were... disastrous, to say the least. One burnt-down baseball field and two houses later, I went full paranoia mode and bought everything fireproof. Just in case.”

Mina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Wait, you’re serious?!”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” You gestured toward the corner of the kitchen, where a fire extinguisher hung on the wall. “Even this place is prepped for the worst. I give Asuna credit, though. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she’s sweet and loving most of the time. But then there’s that other side of her—the gremlin side she inherited from Katsuki.”

Mina snorted, doubling over in laughter. “You mean the ‘short-tempered, explosion-prone, gremlin’ side?”

“Exactly,” you said, shaking your head. “Her temper flares, her quirk sparks, and... boom. Sometimes it’s an energy explosion, sometimes it’s a fiery mess hot enough to rival the lava I can conjure from my fingertips. And the scariest part? She’s fireproof to an extent, but not completely.”

Mina sobered, her smile fading.

“That sounds... tough. For both of you.”

“It is,” you admitted, your voice softening. “She’s getting older now, and I can tell she gets frustrated with that side of her quirk. She’s trying so hard to control it, but sometimes she loses herself in it. Aizawa helps however he can—he’s trained Katsuki, after all—but I know she doesn’t talk to me about it because it reminds her of her mystery father.”

You sighed deeply, gazing out the window at the endless blue sky meeting the ocean in the distance. “I hate that she feels like she has to navigate that alone.”

Mina placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her expression serious but kind. “She’s lucky to have you, though. You’re doing everything you can, and she knows it. Kids are resilient, and Asuna’s got your strength—and your heart.”

You smiled faintly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “Thanks, Mina. It means a lot.”

“She’s gonna be okay,” Mina said firmly, squeezing your shoulder.

“You both are.”

You nodded, the weight on your chest lightening just a little as you glanced back at the cozy kitchen—the plants, the lava light, the safety you’d built here for Asuna.

Maybe Mina was right.

Maybe you were doing okay after all.

Upstairs, Asuna perched silently at the top of the staircase, earbuds dangling loosely around her neck.

She had been about to head down for a snack and a bottle of water when she caught the tail end of your conversation with Mina. Her chest tightened at the words that drifted up.

"So I do get that part of me from him," she murmured to herself, barely audible, her fingers gripping the banister. A dull ache spread through her chest as realization settled in, heavier than she expected.

The sound of her name crackled through her earbuds, snapping her out of her thoughts. “’Suna, you there?” Eri’s voice rang, sweet and full of concern, in her ear.

Asuna pulled the earbuds back in and forced a smile. “Hey, Eri. Yeah, I’m here.” She rose from her crouched position and tiptoed back up the stairs, her socked feet silent against the wood. Her door clicked shut behind her as she whispered, “I gotta take a waz, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

“Okay, don’t fall in!”

“Pfft, you wish!” she replied with a small laugh before the line disconnected.

Asuna sighed, tossing her phone onto the bed before padding over to her window. She pressed her forehead against the icy glass, the cold biting at her skin but doing little to calm the storm inside her.

The moon hung high, its glow illuminating the cityscape stretched out before her. Over the dark lava flow in the distance, the twinkle of city lights blurred into the horizon. She stared at the expanse, her breath fogging the window as memories and unanswered questions churned in her mind.

She didn’t know which of the famed men from Class 1-A was her father, but she had her suspicions. She’d pieced together fragments over the years: the photo she’d found in Aizawa’s desk drawer, you standing next to two boys with fiery red eyes; the limited internet access she’d used to match the faces to names.

Red Riot and Dynamight —long-time best friends and heroes. The same men she’d met at the ramen shop not long ago.

She closed her eyes, the memory of their faces replaying in her mind.

Asuna hate’s the winter. The cold seeped into her bones, reminding her of her frailty as a child. Born at just five months, she had struggled with health issues, asthma attacks brought on by overheating being the most persistent to her underdeveloped lungs. You had kept her home most of the time, worried and protective. She had understood, even appreciated it then, but as she grew older, the isolation became suffocating.

It wasn’t until high school loomed that she had pushed to attend UA, determined to experience the world beyond the walls you've built around her. Aizawa had homeschooled her for years, and though she adored the time spent with him and Eri—her only true friend—she craved more.

Eri had understood her like no one else, the two of them often staying over at each other’s homes. But even with Eri’s companionship, the lingering questions about her father never faded.

Why wouldn’t you tell her? What were you hiding?

The bracelet tracker on her wrist felt heavier than usual as she traced her finger over its edges. She knew where you would be, thanks to it. She knew where Rumi had told her to wait. She also knew she wasn’t supposed to leave—

But the need to know burned too hot to ignore.

Her forehead remained pressed to the glass as she closed her eyes, wishing the cold would seep into her and numb her thoughts. She wished it would snow, a blizzard so thick it would shut everything down.

Then, maybe, you’d stay home. Just you and her, curled up with junk food, watching movies, and stealing moments of warmth in a cocoon of blankets.

She thought of her grandmother, her gentle hands tucking her in, rubbing her head as she drifted off in front of the fireplace. She missed her so much it hurt, a hollow ache that never truly faded.

She pulled back from the window, her breath leaving a foggy imprint on the glass. “I just want to know,” she whispered into the silent room. Her voice cracked, but she didn’t cry. The moonlight bathed her hair in silver as she stared out at the distant city, the question she never voiced echoing in her heart,

‘Who is my father?’

The cold outside pressed closer, a stark contrast to the warmth she longed for. She hugged herself tightly, retreating to her bed. The city lights twinkled far away, just beyond her reach—much like the answers she sought.

Asuna sat on the edge of her bed, phone clutched tightly in her hand. The glowing screen displayed Eri’s contact, but she couldn’t bring herself to press call. Her thumb hovered for a moment before she sighed, tossing the phone onto her pillow.

Restlessness gripped her like a vice, her thoughts racing too quickly to catch. She wanted to storm downstairs and demand Mina spill everything. She wanted to grab the card the big red guy—Kirishima, or whatever his name was—had given her and call him up, demanding answers. She wanted to thank Rumi for covering for her, for always having her back.

She wanted to thank Aizawa for finding her and letting her sit quietly on that rooftop instead of sending her straight home. She wanted to call Uncle Shinsou and make him tell her everything, the way he always managed to pry the truth out of others.

More than anything, Asuna wanted to march into your room, confess that she’d tracked your location and followed you, and apologize for breaking your trust.

But she couldn’t.

The weight of her emotions was too much, pressing down until she felt like she was suffocating. She stood abruptly, the movement sudden and jerky, and stumbled out of her room.

Her feet carried her to the bathroom in a blur. She slammed the light on, the harsh brightness stinging her eyes, and barely made it to the sink before doubling over. Her stomach heaved violently, the remnants of egg rolls and ramen she’d forced herself to eat earlier spilling out. Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles red, as wave after wave of nausea rolled through her.

Finally, the retching stopped, leaving her trembling and dry. She spat into the sink, reaching blindly for the faucet to rinse the mess away. The rush of water was loud in the small space, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of her own ragged breathing.

She grabbed her toothbrush with shaking hands, furiously scrubbing her teeth as if she could erase the sour taste of guilt and frustration along with the bile. The bristles scraped against her gums, her motions more aggressive than necessary, but she didn’t care. She wanted the germs gone, wanted to feel clean, even if it was just superficial.

As she rinsed her mouth, her mind drifted to her grandmother. She wished, more than anything, that the older woman was still alive. Her grandmother had never lied to her. She would have told her the truth—about her father, about you, about everything.

Her thoughts swung back to you, the image of your face etched into her mind.

How could she be mad at you?

You were her mom. The person who raised her. The one she had always reached out to, even as a baby.

Her first memory was of your lips—soft, warm, and comforting. She drew them in the margins of her notebooks, a small comfort when she felt overwhelmed. She thought of how her classmates whispered about you, how they admired your strength, beauty, and the private life you fiercely protected. Some speculated you’d gotten married in secret, building a family in the shadows.

Asuna turned her focus back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing her mouth thoroughly. She braced her hands on the counter, staring at the water swirling down the drain. She felt a lump rise in her throat, but she forced it down.

Finally, she raised her head and looked into the mirror.

Her reflection stared back, drained and tired, with stormy eyes that didn’t quite belong to her but felt achingly familiar. A piece of him, whoever he was.

She traced her fingers lightly over the edge of the mirror, her voice barely a whisper.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Asuna’s eyes lingered on her reflection in the mirror, her breath catching in her throat. She leaned closer, the fluorescent light above flickering slightly, casting a cold, sterile glow over her face.

Those eyes… they didn’t feel like hers.

They burned too brightly, smoldering like embers in the depths of a fire that wasn’t her own.

She raised a trembling hand to her face, her fingertips grazing the skin beneath her eyes as if touching them would confirm they were real.

But they weren’t really hers.

Someone else owned them.

The thought gripped her chest tightly. Her face wasn’t hers either. It was yours—your famed cheekbones, the soft curve of your jaw, the shape of your lips. Everyone said she was the spitting image of her beautiful, powerful mother.

And while she admired you endlessly, it made her feel like a ghost of her own life.

A shadow.

Her nails dug into the counter’s edge as the familiar weight of frustration and resentment bubbled in her chest. She didn’t feel like herself.

To most people, she was a reflection of you—a legacy, an extension, a continuation.

But who was Asuna?

She turned the faucet on, the rush of cold water snapping her out of her thoughts. She splashed some onto her face, hoping the chill would help ground her, but it didn’t. Her fingers pressed against her temples as she tried to stop the spiraling thoughts.

The only person who seemed to see her, really see her, was Eri. But even with Eri, there were times Asuna felt like she was walking a tightrope, trying to prove she was her own person. It didn’t help that, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t escape being compared to you.

“Just like her mother,” they’d say, dismissing her achievements as though they were inevitable, as if her hard work was predestined because she was your daughter. Asuna always worked twelve times harder than everyone else just to carve out a sliver of her own identity, but even then, the credit felt hollow.

Ironically, the one thing people agreed was entirely her own was the one thing that made her feel most alien.

Her eyes

Those piercing red eyes that weren’t yours, that didn’t come from the warm, loving person who raised her.

Eyes that clearly belonged to someone else

Her hands clenched into fists, her nails biting into her palms. She had seen those eyes before, hadn’t she? Earlier today, when she surprised the two men at the ramen spot. Her stomach churned at the memory. They had been so stunned, so caught off guard. She’d taken a dark, petty satisfaction in startling them.

And yet, the thought of it now filled her with guilt.

She hadn’t known it was him back then, the first time she’d seen them at the convenience store. She’d been overwhelmed, lost in grief and confusion.

But afterward?

She let them have it, throwing every ounce of her anger and frustration at them, even if they didn’t fully deserve it.

Bits and pieces of the story had come to her over the years, from whispered conversations and the few snippets she’d managed to overhear. You and her father had a terrible breakup—one that had clearly left scars.

But you never spoke about him. Not directly, only when Asuna had asked, in the way children do, with innocent curiosity.

Not even a negative word.

Asuna’s fingers tightened on the edge of the sink as her mind flashed back to the stolen moments of research she’d managed to conduct. Parental locks on devices made digging nearly impossible. She didn’t trust anyone at school enough to ask, and the school computers were out of the question.

It wasn’t until Rumi had entered the picture that things had changed. A single Google search on the bunny hero’s phone, a quick scroll through old and recent news articles, and Asuna’s world shifted. The headlines spoke of heartbreak, of public fights and private betrayal.

Your hero name intertwined with his.

Asuna felt sick all over again, not from the ramen or egg rolls, but from guilt.

She shouldn’t have looked. She should have come to you first.

You must have had good reasons for keeping it from her—reasons rooted in love and protection.

And yet, the need to know clawed at her insides.

Her powers were growing faster than she could control them, each surge of energy feeling like a scream she couldn’t silence. It was like her body was trying to tell her something, trying to fill in the blanks her mind couldn’t comprehend.

Asuna stared into the mirror, her red eyes glinting under the flickering light.

‘Who do these eyes belong to?’ she wondered again, a lump rising in her throat.

The weight of isolation pressed down on her.

She felt utterly alone, trapped in a mental prison built from secrets and half-truths. She wanted to cry, to rage, to throw something and let the dam break.

But she couldn’t.

Instead, she reached for a towel and dried her face, her movements slow and deliberate. She glanced at her reflection one last time, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“I need answers,” she whispered to herself.

Her fingers brushed against the bracelet on her wrist—the one with the tracker she’d given you. For her safety, you’d agreed. And yet, tonight, it had brought her somewhere you hadn’t wanted her to go.

Somewhere that had only raised more questions.

She turned and left the bathroom, her steps quiet but purposeful. Back in her room, she grabbed her phone, staring at the screen. She thought about calling Eri.

Or maybe Rumi. Or Shinsou. Or even Aizawa.

But no.

There was only one person she needed to talk to.

Sliding under the covers, Asuna clutched her phone to her chest. She’d wait until noon.

And then she’d confront you.

How we feeling chat?

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r,@v3n7s, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756.

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So sorry about the hiatus between chapters. I hope you all accept this as a late Christmas/New years present. I'm also working on the poster for this fic so I can finally add it to my construction zone of a master list.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have some more Katsuki (and other mha) here in the master list. (Ao3 account is pretty sexy too.)

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See you soon my loves!!

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